


Wish You Were Here

by wantAwinchester



Series: The Winchester Chronicles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sam Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anonymous Sex, Finger Fucking, God and angels, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, The Colt (Supernatural), implied sex between Sam and Meg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:32:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5259221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wantAwinchester/pseuds/wantAwinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 3 of the Winchester Chronicles.  Sam finds the Colt and he and Dean reunite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish You Were Here

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my Beta reader. I wrote this quickly and she proofed a very rough draft.  
> This should make up for part 2.

Dean Winchester came with a grunt, rolled off the skinny young man, pulled the condom off, tied it and tossed it on the floor all in one smooth, practiced motion. “You can shower if you want, but then just go.” He tucked a hundred bucks in the kid’s pocket as he showered. He’d said he wasn’t turning tricks but it was clear it had been a while since he’d had a good meal and Dean wasn’t cruel, just broken. It wasn’t his fault that it didn’t matter who he fucked. Even when he did come, he wasn’t satisfied and that was all on Dean.

He grabbed the bottle of cheap whiskey he’d been drowning in before he went out and sat back on the bed, his back to the wall. It had been two months, eight weeks, 60 god damned days since Sam walked away from him. Had left him standing at the side of a back road with the shards of his broken heart around his feet, and the pain hadn’t gotten any better. ‘Hell,’ he thought, ‘it’s just gotten worse.’

Dean barely acknowledged the forgettable guy who mumbled good bye while closing the door behind him, leaving Dean alone to wallow in his misery. He couldn’t even remember what it was about the guy that had reminded of him of Sam, whatever it was it was gone as soon as they got busy and while Dean’s body had continued to react, his mind had checked out and returned to Sam and how things went so sideways.

Fucking Jo Harvelle! Ellen had called him a couple of weeks ago and told him that Jo had confessed to making up the story about him being “inappropriate”; the story that had sent his life off on this miserable, lonely tangent without his brother. He’d called Sam’s phone twice a week since they’d fought and occasionally even left a message for him, but all he’d gotten in return were two identical texts saying, ‘I’m OK.’ Even after he knew that Ellen had told Sam what had gone down with Jo, the big fucking baby continued to ignore his calls. He was half way to shit-faced, angry, lonely and still fucking horny. He didn’t know if he hoped Sam was doing better, worse or was equally as frustrated as he was.  
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Sam had his laptop open, poaching a wireless signal from the crappy diner in the parking lot of the even crappier motel where he was staying. He’d checked out the five other incidents that had occurred in the Palo Alto area around the time of the fire that had taken Jess. There were no survivors in any of those other fires which both saddened and frustrated him. He then started working to check on the other ‘pentagram’ children who were located in California. There were seven and two of the families had relocated recently in a rush. He asked Ash to track down current addresses for them. 

He’d already checked out four of the remaining five and of them only one seemed to be relevant. The Waggeners had lived in Missouri when their daughter, Elspeth, was born on April 30, 1982. They relocated to California before she was six months old and hadn’t experienced anything unusual, until recently when Elspeth began to exhibit signs of telekinesis. Her first attempts had been accidental. She’d think of something along the lines of “damn, I forgot to get a pen,” and the pen would fly across the room. After the first couple of times she’d moved things accidentally she began to focus and try to move them on purpose. Elspeth was successful but using her mind for telekinesis left her with headaches or nosebleeds. Neither she nor her parents had any idea where she’d gotten the talent and Sam felt like it was another dead end.

“So I guess we’ll head to La Jolla and check out the Waggener family tomorrow. Hey, you okay Meg?” He looked over at the elfin blonde he’d met while hitch-hiking across Nebraska. They both had family issues and ended up hanging out together even after Sam got her to California, “You’re about a million miles away.”

“Just thinking about my family. I think I ought to give them a call. I’ll be back shortly,” Meg pulled on her leather jacket and was slipping out the door before Sam could offer her the use of his cell phone. Not that she’d have taken him up on it. He’d offered before and been turned down every time but he didn’t feel right if he didn’t at least try. 

He sighed, looked at the call log on his phone and saw one name repeated over and over and over again. “Dean,” he said the name out loud. Ellen Harvelle had gotten hold of him and told him that Jo had made up her accusation against his brother, but he still hadn’t picked up or returned his calls. It wasn’t Meg, he knew he could leave her in a heartbeat. The sex wasn’t even that great. It was his guilty conscience that was preventing him from talking to his brother. How could he call Dean after he’d gone and hooked up with Meg within a day or two of leaving him at the side of the road? One of the last things he’d said to his brother was that he wouldn’t be able to trust him since he’d always be looking for the easy hook-up when the going got tough and look what he’d gone and done.

Sam laughed, “Talk about fate twisting the knife.” He grabbed his duffle and began to pack. He moved quickly once he decided he was leaving, without Meg, and he wanted to be gone before she returned. He knew it was a douche move but if he didn’t act while she was gone she’d just talk him out of it like she’d already done more than once. He left enough money to cover the room for a few more nights but was gone before she returned. Confident that she’d never make it to La Jolla by the next day, he planned to interview the DeGraws and then head back to the central part of the country and oh yeah, call his brother, maybe.  
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Dean was heading west toward Bobby’s place after finishing a job in Wisconsin, a vengeful spirit which should have been a simple salt and burn, had ended up being a twisted mess of secrets and lies. He was tired and needed a few days off to clear his head and if he was out at Bobby’s place he’d be able to avoid picking up another one night stand who reminded him of what he’d lost. Down side of Bobby’s was that he was there last with Sam….his phone rang with Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” and he nearly ran off the road in his eagerness to answer.

“Sam! Hey Sam….I was just thin…..” Dean cursed silently for sounding so fucking needy, “where….what….how are you?” Sam took so long to reply he thought he lost the signal and pulled the phone from his ear to check.

“Hey Dean,” the drawn out silence was as awkward as shit and Sam didn’t know why he’d thought this was an even remotely good idea. “I….um….” he sighed, “yeah, um, I’m fine. Where are you?”

“Wisconsin, heading west toward Bobby’s.”

“Job?”

“Yeah, son of a bitch vengeful spirit, it was a tough one,” Dean looked down at the speedometer and saw he’d unconsciously sped up. The needle was approaching 95, so he eased up a bit on the accelerator. “What….where are you?”

“Nevada, just leaving Carson City, got a lead on the colt. Wanna meet me in Edgewater?” Sam’s hand was shaking slightly as he posed the question. He didn’t want Dean’s answer to matter, but it did.

“The colt? THE COLT? Shit, Sam that’s great news! Hell yes I’ll meet you, Colorado, right?” The Impala started to pick up speed again as Dean plotted out his revised route in his head.

“Yeah, I should make it before you. I’ll text you the name of the shit hole I check into after I get into town.” Once again the silence on both ends of the line was heavy and awkward. Each party wanting to end the call and at the same time stay connected. Yeah, awkward was an understatement.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you there…..do…..never mind,” Dean sighed again.

“Yeah….well….I’ll see you there. Bye Dean,” Sam disconnected the call before his brother could reply. He really didn’t know how he felt about, well everything, and really hadn’t wanted to get into it over the phone. If the information he picked up in Carson City was accurate, a hunter in Colorado had the colt and its ammunition. He hoped they’d be able to convince him to let them borrow the weapon, but he knew they’d steal it if necessary. There was too much at stake.  
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After Sam checked into the Palm Court motel he headed out to find someplace where he could stock up on beer and whiskey before his brother arrived. He was pretty certain they’d need liberal quantities of both before they found themselves on even ground again. While he was out he located a diner he knew Dean would like and a branch of the Panera Bread chain that he liked. The clerk who’d checked him in said there was a pizza place that delivered until 11:00 pm on weekdays and 2:00 am on weekends and a couple of bars that drew a pretty good crowd even during the week.

He thought briefly about heading to one of the bars to hustle some pool but he still had a few hundred dollars left in his wallet and a brand new credit card of his own. It was amazingly easy to fall back into illicit habits when you didn’t care much about your future. Sam had known as soon as they’d pulled up in front of his burned out apartment that he’d never study law and never take the bar. Knew that keeping his record clean wasn’t even remotely important anymore. He was born a hunter and he’d die a hunter, but hopefully not any time soon.

Sam settled himself on one of the beds with the salad he’d picked up and an open beer. He flicked through the channels convinced that the over-abundance of ‘reality’ TV was going to be the lynchpin that brought civilization to a screeching halt. After running through the channels twice he settled on HGTV and some stupid home renovation show proving that there really was nothing good on TV anymore and picked up his phone.

Dean looked at his phone and shook his head. ‘Fucking Palm Court in the middle of Colorado; makes about as much sense as Harbor View in the middle of the desert. The people who run motels must all be high,’ he thought as he continued down the highway headed for the meet with Sam. His baby brother, not so much a baby anymore, fucking yeti, and yet he still felt responsible for him. The asshole had walked out of his life not once, but twice leaving him alone with their mean drunk ass father the first time and just fucking alone the second. Despite that, or maybe because of that, Sam was the only one he wanted, which either made him the biggest masochist or the biggest girl he’d ever met. Fuck it, maybe he was both, a fucking giant female masochist. 

His mind drifted back to ‘that’ afternoon at Bobby’s place. The day after they’d summoned the little girl demon, God that was awful, he never wanted to face anything like that ever again. It had taken everything in his power to keep questioning the demon as it screamed in a high pitched young girl’s voice. He’d tried drinking the memory away without luck and had ended up begging his brother to fuck him, become part of him in order to give him back some of his humanity. It was perfect. Sam was perfect and then he was gone.

It was close to 3:00 am when he pulled into the Palm Court and parked outside of room 12, first floor, on the end. He smiled; pleased that Sam hadn’t forgotten everything he’d taught him while at Stanford. The TV was flickering but he figured his brother would be asleep by now even with the TV on and used his lock pick kit to let himself into the room.

Sure enough, Sam was flat on his back dead to the world, a couple of empty beer bottles on the night stand, the remains of a salad and a half-eaten pizza on the floor by the bed. Dean closed the door as softly as he could and toed out of his boots before making his way into the room. He grabbed a beer from the cooler and sat on a bed watching his brother sleep while he ate cold pizza. It actually had meat on it, which surprised him, and Sam looked good, better than ever, which didn’t. He shut the TV off and fell asleep looking at his brother.

Dean jerked awake unsure of what woke him or where he was. He was fully clothed so he figured he hadn’t fucked anyone the night before, which worked because he didn’t remember a name, a gender or a face and gods his mouth tasted terrible. He ran his hand over his face and cleared the sleep from his eyes as it all came back to him.

“Morning sunshine, what time did you get in?” Sam laughed. Dean almost fell out of bed turning toward his voice, “I got breakfast and coffee.”

“I lo….located this place around 3:00 or so, you were out so I let myself in,” he stretched, stood and walked over to the small table taking the coffee Sam offered. “Finished your pizza, had a couple of beers and passed out. What time is it?”

“Eight. Got you scrambled eggs, sausage and pancakes, eat while it’s still warm and I’ll fill you in on what I found in California.”

Dean sat and pulled the Styrofoam container over and started on his breakfast, “Thanks.”

“Still talking with your mouth full, nice to know some things never change,” Sam was smiling. It really was good to be sitting across from his always grumpy in the morning brother. How could you not really know how much you missed someone until you were sitting with them again?

“Bitch.”

“Jerk. So, anyway, I got myself back to California and checked on those other fires Ash found around Palo Alto. Fuck, Dean, there were no survivors in any of them. Entire families were wiped out. This Azazel motherfucker is one bad ass demon,” Sam sipped at his coffee and watched his brother eat, his own guilt had made it impossible for him to choke down anything more than his coffee. “Then I went ahead and checked out the other pentagram families in the state. Two of them had recently relocated. Recently as in within the last two weeks, just up and left. I questioned their neighbors and they were mystified. Neither of the families had mentioned anything about a new job, school or mentioned moving until the moving van was in the driveway and then it was a family emergency in both cases.”

“Sounds hinky, did you….”

“Yeah, I asked Ash to try and track them down. He said he’d get back to me sometime today. Of the five remaining, four were unremarkable, at least so far. I left my card with them in case anything changes. The fifth family, the Waggeners, have a daughter the same age as me, her birthday was a couple of days before mine, April 30, and she’s recently begun to be able to move things with her mind,” Sam stopped and took another sip of coffee as Dean finished his breakfast while thinking.

“So, tele-whatever….”

“Kinesis. Telekinesis.”

“So, okay that. This family have a house fire of undetermined origin six months after their daughter’s birthday? If so, was there a fatality involved?”

“No and so no. They moved to California from Missouri before Elspeth was six months old. She’s the oldest and has a couple younger siblings,” Sam rose and got his laptop from his bed.

Dean watched as his brother walked away and wanted more than anything to follow, turn him around, push him on the bed and kiss him until he begged for more. His dick woke up at the thought and Dean adjusted himself slightly to give it a little more room.

“Here’s a recent picture. Perfectly normal suburban family, but their oldest daughter moves things with her mind.” He watched his brother paging through the pictures he’d found online and the ones he’d taken when he was there, Dean looked tired, a little frayed at the edges, but otherwise good. Sam wanted to bring up the Roadhouse and their fight, but didn’t know how; or how the older man would react. He could be mercurial, especially where feelings were concerned. Sam knew his brother felt things deeply, maybe even more so than he did, but always played the carefree rogue as a defense against anyone getting too close.

“You still having those dreams?”

“Yeah, I am. Some are more detailed than others and, don’t freak out on me, I can usually find an incident within the next twenty-four hours that matches the dream. I still get the blinding headaches and an occasional daytime vision as well,” Sam looked down at his hands unable to meet Dean’s eyes. He didn’t want to see shock or worse, disappointment in them.

“Do you think we can get Ash to start calling the list of the other pentagram families and phone screening so we don’t have to haul ass all over the country interviewing them in person? Can you think of a cover story that would be believable?” Dean was able to keep his voice calm but inside he was freaking out, ‘What the fuck?’ he thought, ‘Sammy psychic, some girl’s mind moves things, what the hell was going on.’

“Yeah, I’m sure we could. There’s got to be more than one government agency working on something related to psychics and psychic gifts. Homeland Security might work,” he watched as Dean’s hands beat out a rhythm on the table top, a sure sign he was a little more uncomfortable than he was letting on. “One more thing, Mr. Waggener, Jason, his mom was involved in a very serious car accident about two years before he met his first wife, Jean. Jason’s father died when he was young and his mom raised him herself, he was an only child. While he was sitting in the family waiting room of the intensive care unit one night he was approached by a priest who told him that he could intercede on his mother’s behalf. He figured he meant he’d pray, but the priest insisted that with his help his mother would recover and all he had to do was to give him permission to enter his home anytime he wished. 

Jason thought it was bullshit but agreed anyway and made a complaint to the hospital administrator about the weird priest whose name he couldn’t remember. Anyway, his mom recovered and he forgot all about it until I was asking him about any unexplainable or weird incidents that he could recall.”  
“It’s definitely strange. We’ll have Ash ask about that as well. No one left to ask in your case,” Dean got up and started to rummage through his duffle looking for his shower stuff, “I’m gonna clean up and then let’s talk about the colt.” 

Sam couldn’t help but notice that he’d taken clothes into the bathroom with him. Not too long ago he’d have come out in a towel and dressed in their room. He wasn’t sure if he should feel upset or relieved by the fact. He tossed the thought around in his head as he straightened up the room a bit. They didn’t generally let the hotel cleaning staff in when they were on a job, too much sensitive material left lying around.

It was an hour and a half drive to the small town nearest to the hunter’s cabin. They kept the room in Edgewater rather than chance that anyone in the smaller town would report the presence of a couple of strangers to their target. Once they’d found a scenic overlook where they could park the Impala, they silently stalked through the woods to check out the cabin.

“I really hope we don’t have to spend the night out here,” Dean lowered his field glasses and sipped at his water. “It gets fucking cold around here at night.”  
“It shouldn’t come to that. We’ll watch through the day and if there are no signs of life we can break in and take it.”

“What happened to ‘borrow it’?”

“Still borrowing it, we can return it. We’re just avoiding the question and answer phase of the operation. Do you want to explain what’s going on to another hunter?” 

They were sprawled out on a tarp staying low in the underbrush to the east side of the cabin. Dean had his binoculars scanning the front of the small place while Sam watched the rear. Dean nudged Sam’s shoulder, “Sammy, look over here,” he was pointing to a series of symbols painted on the edge of the front door, “I don’t recognize those, do you?”

They switched places staying as low and quiet as possible and Sam focused his attention on the front door. “Shit, Dean. I think that might Enochian, but without a reference book it’s an educated guess.”

“Angel language? Who uses that?” Dean caught the smirk on his brother’s face and quickly added, “I mean besides angels. Do you remember any protection spells in Enochian?”

Sam was still focused on the symbols trying his best to interpret them, “No, Dad didn’t give us much information about it other than it was the written language of angels. I’m not even sure he believed that was the truth, but wasn’t really able to completely debunk it either.”

“Can you read it?”

“Not very well, I think one of the words may be demon or devil and another hell, but that’s about it.” Sam lowered the glasses and looked sideways at his brother’s profile wishing he could just lean over and nibble at his ear and the really sensitive patch of skin underneath it. “So why do you think a hunter would decorate his doorway with an Enochian spell? If it’s Enochian and if it’s a spell.”

Dean rubbed at the side of his face figuring he had gotten it dirty, “Hell if I know. Could be the guy’s gone off his rocker like some long time hunters do and threw up everything he knew to keep the big bads out of his home.”

“More than likely the case; see anything in back I missed?” 

Both men had their glasses up and moving back and forth over every exposed inch of the cabin. “Nothing unusual, I don’t think anyone’s at home. No signs of life.”

“So what do you think, strike now or come back at night and make our way through the woods in the dark?” Sam thought he knew what his brother would choose but also knew he liked to make the decisions for them.  
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“I don’t know, Sam. I’m not sure setting the place on fire is the smartest thing,” Dean cradled his left arm against his body. The cut he’d gotten during their fight with the older hunter was deep and Sam had used some of the hunter’s t-shirts to fashion a pressure dressing until they could get back to their motel so he could clean the wound and stitch it up.

Sam had the box containing the colt and its ammunition under one arm, the duffel with their weapons across his back and shotgun loaded and ready to shoot on his right. “I’m not sure what else we could do. Crazy or not, he was a hunter and you’ve got to give him some respect just for that. He deserves a hunter’s funeral.”

“Yeah, but that shit about angels….and the fucking apocalypse? You don’t really believe any of that, do you?” Dean winced as he tried to gesture with his left arm.

“I don’t know, Dean, it’s not like we haven’t seen stranger things. Plus, we’ve got this whole pentagram, baby, fire, psychic abilities deal laying at our doorstep, who’s to say that God and his warriors aren’t invested right along with the demons,” Sam looked over to his brother and felt a flash of concern over his pallor. The man had clearly lost more blood than he’d initially thought. “Here,” he handed Dean a bottle of water. “Drink it all. You need to replace some fluid. We’re almost back to the car and I can do a better job of field dressing that cut before we hit the highway.”

Dean grumbled but took the bottle and drained it in two swallows. He was a little light-headed, but hell if he was going to say anything about it. Besides, he’d soon be behind the wheel of his Baby and he could forget about the ache in his arm for a while.

As they drove away from the scenic overlook, Sam placed an anonymous call to the nearest ranger station to let them know about the fire so that it could be contained and not become a threat to the entire area. 

“I could’ve driven,” Dean grumbled from the passenger seat. “Driving is healthy, it’s good for what ails me.”

“Yeah, no. That wound is pretty deep and you’ve lost a lot of blood. You need to keep drinking water and try to relax. I’ll stitch you up back at the motel and then we can revisit whether or not you get to drive,” Sam looked at his brother who was smiling like an insane clown as he tried to convince him that he was fine. “Just relax, I won’t get a scratch on her.”

“You’d better not, I’d have’ta kick your boney ass,” Dean rested his head against the window. He was tired and he knew Sam could handle the car just as well as he could, he just didn’t like to give up too easily.  
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Sam looked at his brother laying on his back and snoring lightly, as he packed his bag. It had felt good to be on a job together again, but the time in between still felt awkward and Sam didn’t think he had the bandwidth to deal with all the emotional baggage that they each were hauling around with them.  
He’d written a note telling Dean where he was going and while the note promised he’d answer his calls; he still wasn’t quite sure he actually would. So much had happened in such a short period of time and he still didn’t really have his head screwed on straight. Despite his size, he could move almost silently and was easing the door open when he felt Dean’s hand on the back of his neck stopping him in his tracks.

“Sneaking out in the middle of the night like a married lover?” Dean pulled his brother back into their room and backed him up against the door, closing it in the process, and getting as far into Sam’s personal space as possible without quite touching him. “I expected a little better from you.”

“I just, um…. see,” Sam struggled to put his thoughts into words, but looking into Dean’s green eyes as they flashed with outrage chased every thought from his mind but the fact that this was Dean, his Dean.

Dean got a little closer and Sam could smell the mix of sweat, whiskey and gun powder that wasn’t as offensive as it was seductive and he could feel his blood flow south as his dick perked up a bit. He kept his eyes glued to his brother’s face and nearly whimpered as he licked his lips before speaking.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, Sammy, not until I’m ready to let you go. You don’t get to leave me a third time,” Dean’s voice was low, with a subtle hint of a growl that he punctuated by pushing himself up against his brother’s bulk, pressing him into the door as he sucked hard enough on Sam’s neck to leave a mark. “You’re mine, Sam and have always been mine. I’m not letting you go this time.” The words were almost a threat and before he’d finished speaking he’d captured Sam’s mouth and pushed his tongue inside, laying claim to every inch he could reach before pulling Sam even closer, angling his head just so, and taking possession of the rest of his mouth.

Sam dropped the bag he’d been holding and grabbed on to his brother’s waist as his own tongue fought the intruder for control of their kiss. It was rough and it was messy. Dean had his good hand wrapped in his hair pulling him even closer as he ground his dick against the hardness barely contained by Sam’s jeans. The only sound in the room was their heavy breathing and low moans. 

Pulling back, Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before pushing Sam’s jacket and plaid shirt off of his broad shoulders and down his arms, letting them pool at his feet before diving in for another desperate kiss. 

Sam gave as good as he got and knew he wasn’t going to be able to move his brother until he was ready. So he swallowed what had to be at least the twentieth moan in the last five minutes and allowed himself to relax into the kiss as a heat that he hadn’t felt since the last time they’d fucked, coiled in his belly making every point of contact between them become exquisitely painful even as his dick responded by leaking pre-come freely. ‘This,’ he thought. ‘This is what I’ve been missing.’ 

Almost as if a switch was flipped on, the two began pulling off their clothes while continuing to bite, kiss and suck at each other’s newly exposed skin. Neither one could really say who’d moved who to the closest bed, but Sam soon had Dean laid out underneath him with only his boxer briefs between them. He sat back on his heels and lazily moved his eyes from the now dark green eyes, freckled nose, stubbled chin, kiss swollen lips and down the length of his torso admiring the hard nipples, also sprinkled with freckles, their rosy hue contrasting with the white skin of Dean’s chest.

Dean struggled against his brother’s weight, wanting to take control of the situation but couldn’t help but notice the look of lust in Sam’s feral, color changing eyes – amber and filled with want. He stopped struggling so he could watch his brother’s eyes stripping him of all of the defensive walls he’d built over the last couple of months. Dean was so hard that it actually hurt and wanted nothing more than to be buried to the hilt inside his brother. Pounding into him, claiming him yet again and pushing them both to climax before collapsing on top of him.

In a smooth and practiced move, Dean had Sam on his belly underneath him, the tight globes of his tight ass moving as he tried to turn, as well as to relieve some of the pressure on his dick. “Not yet Sammy,” Dean slapped lightly at his brother’s ass before leaning forward to bite and suck at his shoulders. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you to come. Don’t disappoint me,” he continued to suck marks down Sam’s spine, relishing the needy sounds he was making as he struggled to stay still. “Don’t you move. I’ll be right back,” Dean stood and removed his underwear with one smooth motion before digging in his bag for the lube he knew was in there somewhere.

Sam could hear Dean rustling through his bag or he would have suspected him of leaving him naked and wanting just to prove a point, “Come on, Dean…please,” he was mortified at the whine that underscored his plea, but he was so fucking hard.

“Keep your shirt on…. oh wait, screw the shirt but you can keep begging, I kinda like that.” Having finally found the lube Dean crawled back behind his really gorgeous little brother and admired the marks he’d left on his back and ass.

“Gagh,” was all Sam could say as he felt his brother’s slicked up fingers trace a line down the cleft of his ass to circle around his hole without actually touching it. He shivered as every nerve in his body was focused on those fingers and he felt fire spread from the point of contact with his skin to every point through his body, “Fuck, Dean, just do it already.”

Dean laughed as he continued to tease his brother’s hole, enjoying the view as he squirmed trying to both pull away and push back at the same time. Without warning Dean pushed his index finger all the way in, the sound Sam made washing over him like liquid fire making his cock jump and leak more slick. “There you go, Sammy,” he leaned over and began to bite and suck on Sam’s shoulders again as he worked his finger in and out. He was amazed at his own control, he was sweating with the effort it was taking to keep himself from coming as his finger fucked in and out of Sam’s hole.

It took every ounce of control that Dean possessed to not replace his finger with his cock and get some relief. He grabbed the base of his cock as he added a second finger and prayed for the strength to make it to three before breaking and fucking Sam blind. Sam, the shit, wasn’t helping at all. He was now moaning and pushing back against his hand in the most spectacularly indecent way possible and Dean knew that neither one of them would last long once his cock hit Sam’s prostate.

Sam thought he was going to go crazy if his brother didn’t speed it up. His cock was so hard it felt like he was pushing it straight through the mattress. He’d had one hand holding onto the base of his cock since Dean started finger fucking him and the need coiled in his belly like a snake waiting to strike. He hated the needy sounds he was making, but couldn’t stop. Even his hand holding back his orgasm nearly failed when he finally felt the blunt tip of Dean’s cock start to push against his hole. He pushed back against it not caring if it made him look like the greedy cock slut that he was, he just wanted.

“Here you go, Sammy,” Dean spoke more to keep himself from coming immediately than to actually say anything important. “Nothing prettier than you opening up for my cock, I wish you could see how good you look on my cock,” he laughed as Sam struggled to impale himself on his now rock hard dick.

Sam had just about given up on waiting to come when Dean slammed all the way in to him, brushing his prostate in the sweetest way. “Dean, fuck….”

“Whatever you say,” Dean set a punishing pace angling himself so he hit Sam’s sweet spot on every stroke. All their words started to string together and neither one cared what was being said. “Samfuckyeahwantedthisfuckfuckfuck….” Dean came with a shout that he was sure the girl in the motel office could hear. Sam’s orgasm followed and milked the last of his brother’s load from his still hard cock.

The silence covered them almost like blanket and Dean eased himself out of Sam’s ass as gently as he could. He knew he’d fucked his brother harder than he had in a long time and that he’d be sore, but it had felt so good. He hadn’t come that hard since…. well, since the last time he’d been with Sam and he felt boneless as he lowered himself beside Sam and turned him so they were face to face. 

Dean brushed Sam’s wet hair off his face in a gesture of tenderness that he very rarely allowed himself. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, but since when do you do cuddling?” Sam’s face split into a wide grin that brought his dimples out as he ran one finger down the plane of his brother’s face.

“I’m not cuddling, I’m…. I’m fucked out! Besides, I drove almost all night last night, saved your ass from a crazy dude and set a place on fire. A man needs to rest once in a while,” Dean put as much indignation into his voice as he could and tried to glare even while he relished the feeling of Sam’s hand on him. “I did all the work here; you could at least go get me a beer or something.”

Sam rolled off the bed and ignoring the come that was trickling down the inside of his thighs, got his brother a beer before heading into the bathroom to wipe himself off a bit, “Shit, Dean, did you have to bite every square inch of my back?” Sam smiled as he spoke and admired the marks on his back.

“Fuck you, Samantha, I didn’t hear you complaining when I was making you beg for me,” Dean finished half the beer in one long pull and watched as his brother admired his work. “Besides, you know you love it.”

Grabbing a beer on the way back, Sam reached into his bag, looking for his sweats, fully intending to crawl into the other bed and allow the afterglow of his orgasm pull him into sleep.

“Hey, where…what are you doing?”

“Getting ready to sleep. You know, no chick flicks, sappy sentiments or cuddling…. your rules, man.”

“Get your ass over here and shut your cake hole before I fill it up. I’m injured and I might need you to, you know, help me in the night. You can’t leave me alone after I saved your ass and then pounded it into next week,” Dean pulled out his best ‘I’m hurt’, look as he waited for his brother to decide what he was going to do. “Come on, Sammy. I really might need you.”

“Fine. But I want it noted that you’re the one being the big girl here and I’m not sleeping on that bed, at least move over here where it’s relatively clean.”

“Whatever you want, Samantha, but I want to know who’s the girl now?” Dean settled down on the other bed and got as close to Sam as he could while placing his injured arm across his stomach. He let out a very small sigh of contentment as his brother put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. “Bitch.”

Sam smiled, not even caring that Dean had called him Samantha twice, the most hated nickname of all time, “Jerk.”

The End.


End file.
